Читать книгу Seduced by Blood - Laurie London - Страница 12

THE HELICOPTER LANDED just before dawn. Many of the people who worked at Region stood near the landing pad or just inside the doors, waiting for the injured to be taken off the aircraft. From what Roxy understood, there’d been an explosion in Seattle and several Guardians had been severely injured.

Santiago rushed the helicopter as the rotors spun loudly above him.

The doors opened and the medics wasted no time whisking a dark-haired man wrapped in bandages into the region’s medical facility. A young woman followed closely behind them, her face ashen, a squirming toddler wrapped in her arms. Brenna waved to the pilot as she fell into step behind the group.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?” Santiago asked the man on the gurney.

This was obviously someone of importance, as he didn’t address his question to the two other people who had climbed out of the aircraft under their own power. The attendants who were pushing the patient down the sterile hallway didn’t slow down, so Santiago had to jog after them to keep up.

“Our location…compromised,” the man called out, his voice strained and laced with pain. “They knew…we were going…to be there.”

The gurney burst through the doors of the surgical wing and Brenna had to stop Santiago and the woman from following.

“Please tell me he’s going to be all right,” the woman sobbed. “That man…is my life.”

Brenna gave her a quick hug. “We’ll do everything we can to save him, Mackenzie. I promise.”

The double doors had hardly swung shut before Santiago erupted in a volley of cursing and punched his fist through the wall. Clutching the boy like a lifeline, the woman slid to the ground.

EVER SINCE THE injured had been brought in, the offices had been strangely quiet. No loud talking or laughing by anyone anywhere, just hushed whispers. Although the tragedy had happened down in Seattle, it clearly had a profound impact on everyone. The gym was empty, the cafeteria subdued. When someone passed in the hallway, instead of a “Hi, how are you,” no one gave more than a thin-lipped smile of acknowledgment. Having gotten used to everyone’s friendly and welcoming natures, the change was obvious to Roxy.

Her students filed into the classroom one by one, their gazes fixed to the ground. As usual when Roxy pressed the button on the remote control for the interactive whiteboard showing today’s topics, nothing happened. The screen should’ve dropped from the ceiling and the Powerpoint slides, which were displayed on her monitor, should’ve been displayed there, as well. She pressed another button. Still nothing.

She glanced around the room. Her go-to guy hadn’t arrived yet. No matter. She was an intelligent woman and this was just a simple piece of technology. Hell, she used such teaching equipment down at the Academy, just not this brand.

Pushing a chair directly under the ceiling-mounted control panel, she kicked off her heels and stepped onto the seat, careful not to let her skirt ride up too much. Just inches away from it now, she aimed the remote right at the thing and stabbed at a few more buttons. Again, nothing.

Exasperated, she stepped down. “Is Raymond coming?” She could’ve sworn that she was pressing the same buttons he did, but he was the only one who could get the thing to work.

“I’m not sure, Ms. Reynolds. He knows one of the guys who was hurt, so I’ll bet he’s pretty shaken up.”

Without putting her shoes back on, she sat down on the edge of the desk, thinking. Given that three other students weren’t here either, Raymond wasn’t the only one too upset to come to class. And of those who did come, she could see in their eyes how distracted they were. If only there was a chalkboard or something else to write on, but that fancy whiteboard was it.

“Tell you what. I can see that everyone’s heart isn’t into this. And to tell you the truth, neither is mine. How about we cancel class for today and I’ll email you the assignment?”

The students murmured their agreement.

“Let’s hope we hear good news soon.”

After everyone gathered their things and exited the classroom, she tucked her laptop under her arm and left, as well. She considered heading back and getting lost in a book for the rest of the day, but the thought of sitting by herself wasn’t very appealing. Normally, she enjoyed being by herself, but with everything that had happened, she found herself dreading being alone.

Seeing Mackenzie’s husband laid out on the stretcher reminded her of the night when Ian was killed. Only Ian wasn’t brought in on a gurney, but in a plastic bag. She only hoped that Mackenzie wouldn’t experience what she had all those years ago, when the man she once loved had died.

No, she definitely didn’t want to be alone in her room in a strange place. It brought up too many terrible memories she’d just as soon forget.

She planned to head back to drop off her things and change, then go find the sanctuary Brenna had told her about. She’d light some candles and say a few prayers for the injured. She was deep in thought when she realized she was in a part of the labyrinth of offices she hadn’t been before. Nothing looked familiar. And then she heard the soft sounds of a woman crying.

She peered around the corner into a small waiting area and realized she must be in the medical clinic part of the offices.

There in the corner on a sofa sat Mackenzie. Her son was wrapped in a blanket on her lap, his thumb in his mouth, sleeping. It was apparent she was trying not to cry and wake him.

Roxy hesitated at first. Maybe Mackenzie wanted to be alone in her sorrow. But then she remembered the horrible emptiness she’d felt while she waited for news from the doctors. She had hoped they’d come in and tell her that the charcoaled remains weren’t Ian’s. That he’d just been injured and it was one of the other agents who’d been killed. She’d longed for someone to sit with her quietly and be her rock, but she’d had no one.

She grabbed a box of tissues from a nearby side table and set them next to Mackenzie. “Can I get you some water?”

Mackenzie looked up at her with tear-filled eyes and nodded.

Roxy wanted to wrap her arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. That her husband was not only going to live but that he’d make a full recovery so the two of them would have a long life together, filled with happiness and many more babies. Instead, she returned a moment later with a bottle of water from the small refrigerator near the door.

“Want me to hold him for you?” Roxy whispered, handing her the bottle and sitting down next to her.

Mackenzie smiled gratefully and took a small sip. “That’s okay. He’d probably just wake up anyway.”

The woman drank almost the whole bottle and Roxy wondered when was the last time she’d had anything to eat. “They’re good up here, you know. The clinic.” Lily’s mom was one of the finest doctors in all of North America and if Roxy ever got hurt, she’d want to be treated by Dr. DeGraff.

“I hope to God it’s enough.”

“WE’RE COMING back.”

Even through the secure video feed into the region’s conference room, the stress on Alfonso’s face was as obvious as if it had been etched with black sharpie. Normally an expert at hiding his emotion, he was having a hard time controlling it today. Santiago had to bite his tongue to keep from ordering him to stay put. He knew the man needed the time away, but Dom was Alfonso’s brother. The two had been estranged for years and just recently had been able to put the past behind them.

“They’re doing all they can to save him. There’s not much you can do at this point except pray.”

“Not much we can do?” Alfonso looked as though he might lunge through the monitor and strangle him. “We can be there for my sister-in-law and nephew.”

“How’s Mackenzie doing?” Lily asked, her hand on Alfonso’s arm. “I’ve been trying to call her but it keeps going straight to voice mail.”

Her pained expression was a stark contrast to the bright colored headband she wore, which she’d probably picked up in one of the Hill Country’s local markets. Santiago could hear Spanish guitar music floating in through the open window behind them.

“She’s pretty shaken up,” he replied. “But Roxanne has been staying with her. Hasn’t left her side.”

That morning, he’d walked past the clinic waiting room and had seen Mackenzie crying into her shoulder while Roxanne rubbed her back. Why did everyone else seem to find her presence so calming when she had just the opposite effect on him? She drove him crazy with her incense and candles, and for some reason, he became acutely aware of his faults, his every imperfection when she was around. It made it hard for him to think clearly.

Alfonso scrubbed a hand over his face. “From what you’ve said, I can’t help thinking there’s a traitor in the Seattle field office.”

“Impossible.” Jackson put his boots on the conference room table and leaned back in his chair. He’d been quiet up till now. “I know everybody there. We’re a tight-knit group. None of the Guardians would do something like this.”

“I agree,” Lily said.

“Was there anyone on the outside who knew about the bust?” Santiago asked. “Any support staff? Warehouse worker?”

Jackson scowled, thinking. “Not that I know of. Just the Guardians who were there. Could it have been a setup? You got the intel from a DB up here, right?”

Santiago nodded, remembering the guy with the Guardian blade. “I’ve thought about that already, but we had to torture him for the information. He wasn’t forthcoming.”

“Then it’s got to be a traitor,” Alfonso said. “Having been a double agent for years, I know how these things work. You build up trust and loyalty with your peers and when they think you’re one of them, you can get lots of information.”

“I don’t know, love,” Lily said. “I have to agree with Jackson. I can’t imagine anyone in the Seattle office who would be capable of that.”

Alfonso shook his head. “Would you think I was capable of such deception when I worked inside the Alliance?”

The silence in the conference room was heavy. No one could picture how Alfonso had lasted all those years inside without his cover being blown.

“How else do you explain it?” he continued. “Darkbloods knew that Dom and his team would show up. Sounds like an inside job to me.”

A traitor under his command? Santiago pounded his fist on the table, making the video monitor jump. “Then I’m going down there and talking to every goddamn person in that office. And when I find out who it is, I’m going to stake the bastard myself.”

“It could be a woman,” Lily said.

“Then I’ll stake the bitch.”

“Or a human,” Alfonso said. “I ran across several who worked for the Alliance who’d have done anything to be changed. Evil sycophants. That’s what my friend N—” He coughed, looking uncomfortable for a moment. Santiago knew the Agency had others working on the inside, doing just what Alfonso had done for decades. “That’s what I called them. They could be more cutthroat and brutal than Darkbloods themselves.”

Santiago gripped the edge of the table so hard that a piece of it broke off. He hurled it against the wall and heard the sound of glass breaking. “Then I’ll rip his…or her throat out.”

“An equal opportunity killing,” Jackson mumbled from across the table.

Alfonso leaned in close to the monitor. “If the person truly is a good enough liar to have fooled everyone, what makes you think you’ll be able to root him or her out? They’ll spook. They’ll see you coming a mile away and either take off or have their guard locked up so tight you’ll think they’re as trustworthy as your father.”

Bad analogy, Santiago thought. His father was as far from trustworthy as they got.

Lily cleared her throat. “Santiago, I’m afraid I have to agree with Alfonso. You’re not exactly subtle. Have you tried picking up the scent track from the warehouse? Maybe the trail will lead you back to the traitor.”

“Kip tried but came up with nothing.” Santiago picked at a wood splinter in his finger with his teeth. “It’s been raining solid since the explosion and all trace of any scent has been washed away.”

“What about Roxy?” Lily asked. “Have you asked her?”

Santiago froze. He didn’t need or want an outsider involved in an issue that should be handled as quietly as possible from within. Especially a critical outsider.

“No.”

“Why not? She’s the best tracker in the Agency. I learned everything I know from her. Besides, she’s really good at reading people. If the scent trail is gone, she might be able to figure out who in the office is behind this.”

“Take it from me,” Alfonso said, “having worked undercover for years, you get a nose for when people are poking around. If Roxy goes down there and starts asking questions, they’ll totally be onto her.”

“Yeah, that won’t work,” Lily said, shaking her head.

“Hell,” Jackson said, “what if you and Roxy pretend you’re lovers?”

Santiago’s head snapped up. “What the hell for?” It didn’t surprise him that Jackson would bring up the topic of sex. Before Arianna, there hadn’t been an attractive woman within miles of him that he hadn’t bedded or thought about bedding. At the clubs, they practically threw themselves at his feet. Sex was all the guy thought about.

“You know, Santiago,” Alfonso said, slowly, as if Jackson’s dumbass comment was for real, “that’s not a half-bad idea.”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

He rubbed his temples. He was seriously on the verge on one giant motherfucking headache.

Jackson jumped from his chair and rubbed his hands together gleefully, like a youthling preparing to do something naughty. “Think about it. The two of you could masquerade as a couple so that no one realizes she’s down there to scope things out. You could attend the regional awards gala and be all over each other. Dancing, kissing, slipping into one of the private salons for a little—” he made a kissing sound “—and no one would think anything of it.”

Clenching his jaw so hard that his molars ached, he did his best to ignore Jackson’s asinine idea. “That reminds me. I’m cancelling the ceremony. It doesn’t seem right to celebrate Guardians’ achievements when several of our own are suffering. I’ll postpone the event and give out the awards another time.”

A few of them murmured in agreement.

“Plus,” Lily said, “it may not be safe. This attack was orchestrated, premeditated. Guardians are clearly a target and until we find out who’s responsible, Darkbloods could strike again and injure innocent members of the vampire community.”

“I disagree,” Alfonso said, shaking his head. “Cancelling the ceremony would be a big mistake.”

Santiago scowled. He didn’t like to be challenged.

“In my personal opinion,” Alfonso added benignly.

“A mistake?” The more he thought about it, the more his pupils dilated with anger. Trying to keep his people safe wasn’t a strong enough reason to cancel the damn party?

It was Santiago’s responsibility to keep the region as free from Darkblood scourge as possible, not Alfonso’s. He needed to ensure the safety of the small vampire community who lived peacefully among the humans here in the Northwest. Thanks to Dom’s contact in the Seattle Police Department—a man he knew through some military training they’d done together—a meth lab explosion was what the papers had reported. Damage control when humans died or disappeared was difficult enough. But an entire building?

He stood, kicking the chair out from behind him and paced around the room. He’d root out these bastards once and for all. Wearing a daysuit, he’d find where they slept in those coffins of theirs and let Misery carve them into little pieces. They’d find justice all right. At the point of his knife. He sure as hell didn’t have time for a damn party.

“Listen,” Alfonso said. Santiago spun around to see him holding up his palms. “I’m not trying to challenge your authority on this, but in my opinion, the ceremony shouldn’t be cancelled. Darkbloods may not know the extent of the collateral damage. If you cancel it, they’ll know they succeeded. They’ll scurry around like a bunch of rats when the cat dies and you’ll have more problems on your hands. On the outside, I say it should be business as usual. Don’t let them know how deeply they affected us. And then behind the scenes, when they’re least expecting it, we nail their asses.”

Jackson pulled out a half sandwich from somewhere and took a bite. “He does make a good p—”

“Stop. Just shut the hell up. Everyone.” Santiago fired off a string of expletives in several languages, ignoring that they all were lifting their eyebrows and rolling their eyes at his outburst. Let them. It was no skin off his nose. They could bellyache all they wanted, but in the end, it was his decision to make.

The room was uncomfortably silent as he absently scraped at another splinter in this thumb. Last thing Santiago wanted was for Darkbloods to think they had the upper hand. Leave it to a guy who spent years inside Darkblood operations feeding intel to the Agency, to know how the bastards thought and operated. He had to admit, Alfonso did make some good points.

“We’d have to step up security,” Santiago said finally. “Eliminate all possible breaches.”

For the next few minutes, they hashed out exactly what needed to be done if the ceremony wasn’t cancelled.

“That doesn’t solve the original problem,” Lily said quietly when everyone was done talking. “We don’t know the source of the leaks.”

“I still think you and Roxy should pretend to be lovers,” Jackson said bluntly, wiping the back of a hand over his mouth. “What a fun way to find the traitor.”

“I don’t care about fun.” Santiago pinched the bridge of his nose as his head began to pound. The lingering effects of UV exposure weren’t something he needed right now. If he had known all this was going to happen, he would have fought the urge to go to the Ridge. “Some might know she’s the head tracker at the Academy.”

Jackson shrugged. “So what? We have various trackers there all the time. She could be your new hot girlfriend who’s in town because she’s going to the ceremony with you. She could poke around, ask a few innocent questions, and no one would be the wiser.”

Alfonso turned to Lily. “Do you think she’d go for it?”

“I could ask,” she said.

“I don’t see why it has to be her, why we have to involve an outsider.” Santiago was well aware that his argument was getting flimsier, but this couldn’t be the only solution. “I’m perfectly capable of reading people. I’ll go down there myself.”

Lily laughed. “And you’re about as subtle as my fist to Jackson’s nose. Seriously, Santiago, Roxy’s amazing at analyzing people and their underlying motivations.”

“Hey,” Jackson protested. “Leave my nose out of this.”

Lily recounted an event that happened when Roxanne was mentoring her out in the field when she was a trainee at Tracker Academy. “We were following Darkblood scent in New Orleans, which led to a small voodoo shop in the French Quarter. With all the smells permeating the small space—herbs, potions, gris-gris—I was having a hard time distinguishing the one I’d been tracking. The shop owner, an elderly human woman whose face was as weathered as a dried apple, was arguing with a customer. It was obvious she didn’t want him to leave. I assumed she wanted him to buy one of her concoctions, but Roxy said it had nothing to do with making a sale. She could tell that the woman’s motives for keeping him in her shop were pure, not selfish. But the man didn’t listen. Ten minutes later, he was killed in the middle of Canal Street by a runaway carriage.”

Jackson sat forward in his chair. “So the old woman was a psychic.”

“Yes, and Roxy knew she was telling the truth simply by listening to her.”

“Remind me not to invite her to play poker,” Jackson said.

Alfonso was nodding his head. “That’s pretty compelling, Santiago. She didn’t have to talk to the woman to get a good read on her intentions. All she did was listen. I say you should do this thing. What would it hurt?”

Santiago was fighting a losing battle and started to protest again.

“Guess you could always send her down there on her own,” Lily said.

“Kind of defeats the purpose though,” Alfonso countered. “People would wonder why she was there. Sure, you could invent something, but this is the simplest solution of all. She’s Santiago’s girlfriend, in town to attend the gala. Doesn’t get much simpler than that.”

With every beat of his heart, this headache grew stronger. Santiago did not want to pretend to be Roxanne Reynolds’s lover. That would mean she’d have to share his room at the field office, that they’d have to put on a show and act like they cared about each other. She was too different from him to make a charade like that work.

Besides, he didn’t let affairs of the heart control him in real life, so he sure as hell didn’t want to pretend they did. Hell, he wouldn’t even know how to act in a fake relationship. He rarely let himself carry on with a woman longer than a few days and he always kept his heart out of it. His father’s philandering ways had destroyed their family and Santiago had vowed long ago that he’d never repeat his mistakes. A night or two with the same woman was one thing, but several weeks?

He could almost smell his father’s cigar now as he thought about one of the last conversations they’d had.

“The sins of the father are passed down to the son,” his father had said, tilting his head back and blowing out a thick stream of smoke. “You have to realize that the men in our family were not meant to be monogamous. This nature of ours—it is in our genes and there is nothing we can do about it. Our seed does not belong inside just one woman.”

As far as Santiago knew, his father hadn’t produced any children outside his marriage, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying. His parents had been pressured to get married and have more offspring after his mother had gotten pregnant. Given the low birth rates among their people, when a pairing turned out to be fruitful, their society urged them to have more.

Having seen what his father’s actions had done to his mother, Santiago swore he’d never do the same to any woman. If promiscuity truly was in their genes, then he didn’t want to destroy a woman like his father had done. Because when the mother suffered, so did the children. And he sure as hell didn’t want to produce sons who’d do the same thing. As far as he was concerned, the sins of the father stopped with him.

Besides, there was something about Roxanne that unsettled him, caused him to think about things he’d rather not. And he happened to like himself just the way he was.

“You two could play house,” Jackson said. “Who knows? You might actually like it.”

For the second time tonight, Santiago pounded his fist on the conference room table. “Absolutely not.”

THERE HAD TO be a crib here at region headquarters somewhere, Roxy thought. Mackenzie said there wasn’t, which seemed crazy. Miguel couldn’t be the only child to ever stay here, no matter how uncommon vampire children were. But if there really wasn’t a crib here, then Roxy planned to head into town and buy one. And Santiago would just have to run it through as an expense.

She pushed open the door to his outer office, but it was empty. His assistant’s chair was tucked into her desk and the few personal things on the top were arranged neatly. Had the woman even been in today? It sure didn’t look like it. Either that or she was extremely neat and tidy. Glancing around at how orderly the colored files were behind her desk, Roxy figured the latter was true.

She stared at the closed double doors, wondering what she should do. If she knocked, would he even answer? Her tracker senses told her he was there. Maybe she should come back another time when Jenella was around. As she debated what to do, she heard a series of crashes behind the doors. Without thinking, she grabbed the handles and pushed them open.

The office was an absolute mess—chairs overturned, papers scattered everywhere, chunks of plaster and dust covered much of the floor. He’d thrown something—a chair, maybe?—at the ceiling at some point. With his back to her, Santiago said something in a language she didn’t recognize—no doubt a curse—and swiped a hand over the remaining items on his desk. Everything on top of it went flying, including his computer monitor.

“Whoa,” she said, ducking. It landed with a crash on the wall about three feet away from her and shattered.

He spun to face her, an angry fire blazing in his eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

This was madness. What had gotten into him that he’d want to completely destroy his office like this? It wouldn’t be a matter of just righting a few desks and chairs and straightening papers. This would take a whole crew of repairmen to fix the damage.

Breathing heavily, he stared at her, his nostrils flared, his mouth slightly ajar, exposing the tips of his fangs. His tattoo seemed darker all of a sudden, more ominous than it had before.

At first, she thought about turning on her heel and coming back another time. Clearly, she was not meant to have witnessed this, but she wasn’t going to let him scare her off. Where was the in-control man she was used to seeing around the offices? The man who confidently fired off orders that people eagerly followed through on? Even though a part of her wanted to leave, she knew she needed to stay strong and continue.

“I came to ask a question but I can see that the commanding officer has been possessed by a madman.”

“Where’s Jenella?” His voice sounded as if he’d just straight-shot a glass of gravel. “Why did she let you in?”

Roxy shrugged. “She wasn’t there.”

He kicked at what she thought was a part of his printer. “You shouldn’t be here either. Leave.”

She bristled. Not before she got what she came for.

“Are you through yet?” She could see him stiffen, but she wasn’t dissuaded from continuing. Miguel needed a crib. Mackenzie needed him to sleep in one, in order for her to get some decent rest. Something told Roxy to keep pushing. “What’s gotten into you? Why have you destroyed your office?”

“You weren’t supposed to see this,” he said. “No one was.”

“Well, the noise was hard to miss.” Several books were balanced precariously on the edge of the shelf so she pushed them all the way in and stooped to pick up one from the floor.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” She slid it back onto the bookshelf. Judging by the leather spines, there were some old ones here. It’d be a shame if any of them got bent or torn.

“I don’t want you coming in here and…cleaning up.”

Yeah, he probably expected his assistant to do it. Maybe that was why she was gone in the first place. She wanted her boss to clean up his own damn mess for once.

His chest continued to rise and fall, the muscles in his arms bulging, reminding her of a bull in an arena ready to charge. Only she wasn’t scared. She’d always felt sorry for the bulls.

“This wasn’t the reason I came.” She spotted another book on the floor behind the broken computer monitor. Oh, for goddsake. It was a first edition of The Call of the Wild. “What is the matter with you?”

He exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. “What do you want?”

She flung her hand around. “I want to know what this is about.”

“There’s nothing for you to understand. I already told you to leave. This is none of your concern.”

But she couldn’t just leave. She wanted to know more. Why the tantrum? He seemed like the most controlled and in-charge man she’d ever met. And this, she thought, looking at all the broken computer equipment and upended furniture, was far from that.

She narrowed her eyes and studied him. He seemed to have calmed down a little; his pupils weren’t quite so dilated, his breathing had slowed. Maybe the problem was that he was cool on the outside while torment raged on the inside. She had no idea why, but for some reason, it was important for her to keep pushing in order to better understand him.

“What if I don’t want to leave? What if I…care why you’ve done this?”

His head snapped up as if he’d been slapped, his eyes dark and menacing. “Why would you care about me? I’ve not exactly been warm and welcoming to you.”

He made it sound as if he’d been consciously trying to act like a jerk. She’d done nothing to warrant being treated like that on purpose. Then it dawned on her. Maybe her past had followed her. Maybe he’d heard the accusations from long ago and didn’t want her here.

She stood a little taller and put a wall of iron around her heart. “Well, for one thing, I need to know how to get a crib set up in Mackenzie’s room. She’s exhausted and the only way she’s going to get any rest is if Miguel sleeps in his own bed. Which means the region needs a damn crib. If you don’t have one, then I’m driving to the nearest town right now and buying one. And you’re going to reimburse me.”

His expression seemed to soften just a little and he leaned on the edge of his desk. “And what was the other reason?”

“I… I…don’t know. Guess I just wanted to see if I could help.”

His gaze darted around the room. He seemed to see the destruction for the first time through the eyes of a reasonable man because he actually looked a little sheepish. He strode over to the wet bar and grabbed a bottle of scotch. “Want one?”

Was that supposed to be a peace offering of some sort? She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not if I’m going to have to drive to the store and buy a crib.”

He smiled then, not one of those big, movie-star smiles with the gleaming eyes and the perfect teeth that made you want to strip off your panties, but a quiet, almost diminutive smile that said he knew she was right, he was wrong, and that maybe her past was still in the past after all.

He picked up his phone, barked a few orders and hung up. “Okay, Roxanne. Miguel will have a crib within the hour.”

“Thank you. That’s going to make it so much better for Mackenzie.” She ran her hands along the spines of the books and smiled. “Please, I’d like it if you called me Roxy.”

He studied her face for a moment before his gaze traveled slowly down her body all the way to her feet then back up again as if he were seeing her for the first time, as well. A ball of warmth concentrated in her belly and radiated outward, making her cheeks feel as if they were on fire. She resisted the urge to cool them with her palms.

He held up the bottle again. “Are you sure?”

“Um, thanks, but no. I’m a frou-frou drink person all the way.” At the amused expression on his face she added, “You know, daiquiris, cosmos, anything that comes with an umbrella.”

He poured himself a drink and knocked it back in one swallow. Twisting the glass around in his hand, he seemed to be inordinately interested in the tiny amount of scotch that was left at the bottom. A tiny muscle in his jaw ticked as if he was chewing on his thoughts.

“Positive?” He set the glass down and looked at her pointedly. “Because you might want one after what I’m about to ask you.”

A dozen red flags flapped in her head and her mouth went dry. First he wanted her out of his office and now he wanted to chat? Why the turnaround? She had a really bad feeling about this. Maybe she should take him up on his offer because she was suddenly very thirsty. Too bad she hated scotch.

She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. Trying to maintain her composure, she opened the small refrigerator and spotted a small can of grapefruit juice. “Got any vodka?”

“Right here.”

“Then I’ll have a greyhound. And don’t add too much juice. I want to be able to taste the alcohol.”

Grabbing a glass that hadn’t been broken, he made the drink, poured himself another scotch and pointed to the couch, the only piece of furniture unaffected by his tirade. “Take this and sit down,” he said in that gravelly voice of his. “But I’m afraid I’m fresh out of umbrellas.”